Chapter 4 – The Family Dinner

Clara’s POV

By the time I got home, it was already past 10 p.m. My head was spinning, and my heels felt like punishment.

The fake proposal had gone perfectly — too perfectly — but what came after was even more exhausting. Elias and I spent hours in his office going over every possible question his parents might ask.

“How did we meet?” he’d said in that firm tone of his.

“At a charity gala,” I repeated like a schoolgirl being tested.

“What caught my attention?”

“My honesty,” I said.

He raised a brow. “And?”

“And the fact that I wasn’t impressed by your money,” I muttered.

He’d smirked. “Good. Keep it that way tomorrow.”

By the time I finally stepped into our apartment, my brain felt like it had melted. Zara was sprawled across the couch in her oversized T-shirt, scrolling on her phone with a face mask on.

“Claraaaa!” she screamed as soon as she saw me. “The fake fiancée is back from her billionaire duties!”

I dropped my purse on the table and sank into the couch beside her. “Zara, I’m exhausted. We spent hours planning what to tell his parents tomorrow.”

She sat up, eyes wide. “So it’s official — you’re meeting his parents? Like, the real Thorne family?”

I nodded weakly. “Yes. Tomorrow morning.”

She threw her hands in the air dramatically. “Ahhh, my friend! You are now in money! Don’t stress me, Clara, you’re living my dream life.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “It’s not funny, Zara. They’re billionaires. I have to act like I belong there. I can’t mess this up.”

Zara grinned, tossing her phone aside. “Babe, please. You already nailed the proposal part. I saw the pictures — you looked so in love, even I almost believed it.”

“That’s the scary part,” I murmured, rubbing my forehead.

She grabbed a pillow and hit me playfully. “Oya, stop worrying. Tomorrow, you’ll charm them all. We’ll dress you like a classy baddie. Don’t worry — they’ll be begging Elias to marry you for real.”

I rolled my eyes. “Zara, you’re insane.”

“Insanely supportive,” she said proudly. Then, leaning closer, she whispered, “But first, give me my share of that $20k alert, abeg. We are in the money now, and I’m officially your manager.”

I burst out laughing for the first time that night. Zara always knew how to break my tension.

“Manager? You mean full-time troublemaker,” I teased.

She grinned. “Same thing, babe. Now, go shower and sleep. Tomorrow, you need beauty sleep — billionaire mother-in-law type of pressure awaits.”

We stayed up talking for a while — about the money, the contract, the proposal, and the fact that my life suddenly didn’t feel like my own anymore. Then Zara made me promise to let her pick my outfit in the morning.

“Trust me, you’ll look expensive,” she said, blowing me a kiss before turning off the light.

---

Morning came faster than I expected.

“Claraaa! Wake up!” Zara’s voice echoed through the apartment before sunlight even filled the room. She yanked my blanket away.

“Zara, it’s too early,” I groaned.

“Too early? Babe, you’re going to meet a billionaire’s mother! There’s no ‘too early’ in this situation.”

She threw open my wardrobe and began pulling out dresses like she was styling a celebrity.

“This one,” she said, holding up a sleek cream gown. “Simple, elegant, rich-aunty energy. You’ll thank me later.”

I sat up, blinking sleep from my eyes. “You act like I’m actually getting married tomorrow.”

She winked. “Fake or not, you’re living the fantasy, babe.”

By the time we were done, I barely recognized myself. Zara had done my makeup to perfection — soft, glowy, and elegant. She even added subtle curls to my hair.

“You look like luxury,” she said proudly. “Now go knock those billionaire jaws off.”

I smiled nervously, grabbing my bag as the familiar black car arrived downstairs. “Wish me luck.”

Zara gave me a playful salute. “Go, Mrs. Thorne-in-training!”

---

The drive to the Thorne mansion felt endless. My palms wouldn’t stop sweating, and my stomach twisted tighter with every mile.

When the gates finally opened, I stared out the window, speechless. The mansion wasn’t just big — it was a whole world of its own.

Long fountains lined the driveway, marble statues glimmered in the morning sun, and guards stood at every corner.

Elias was already waiting outside, his posture straight, his suit perfectly pressed.

He opened the car door for me, and for a second, his eyes softened. “You look beautiful,” he said quietly.

“Thanks,” I murmured, trying not to show how nervous I was.

“Remember what we discussed,” he said as we walked toward the entrance. “No hesitation. You’re my fiancée. Act like it.”

The heavy doors opened, and the elegant scent of roses and wealth filled the air.

A woman in her late fifties — graceful, poised, and clearly in charge — turned to face us. Her eyes scanned me from head to toe before landing on my hand where the ring sparkled.

“So this is her,” she said slowly, her voice calm but sharp. “The woman who captured my son’s heart.”

My heart pounded. Elias smiled faintly beside me, but his hand on my back tensed slightly.

“Yes, Mother,” he said. “This is Clara.”

Her eyes lingered on me, unreadable. “Interesting. Tell me, Clara… how exactly did you and my son meet?”

I froze.

All the words we practiced vanished from my mind.

My heart pounded so loud, I was sure everyone at the table could hear it.

Elias’s mother’s eyes were on me — calm, curious, but sharp enough to slice through any lie. His father sat at the head of the table, swirling a glass of wine, while his younger sister scrolled idly through her phone, pretending not to listen.

The Thornes were everything I wasn’t — polished, poised, powerful.

“I–uh… we met at an art gallery,” I said finally, forcing a smile. “He was standing by one of the paintings, and we… started talking.”

His mother’s brow lifted slightly. “An art gallery? Elias doesn’t usually attend those.”

My throat went dry.

Elias leaned forward, voice smooth as silk. “I was there for a charity auction, Mother. Clara didn’t know who I was. That’s what caught my attention.”

Mrs. Thorne’s lips curved faintly. “How refreshing.”

I exhaled quietly, but the interrogation wasn’t over.

Mr. Thorne placed his glass down with a soft clink. “And what do you do, Clara?”

“I work—well, I used to work—as an assistant,” I said. “I left my job recently.”

His gaze sharpened. “So you’re unemployed?”

I blinked. “I… I suppose you could say that.”

Zara’s voice echoed in my head — Don’t overthink. Smile and act like you belong.

So I smiled. “Temporarily unemployed. I was looking for a new opportunity.”

Elias added smoothly, “She’s been helping me with a few personal projects. She’s brilliant with details.”

Mr. Thorne raised a brow, clearly unconvinced.

Mrs. Thorne’s voice cut in again, soft but firm. “And what is it you love most about my son, Clara?”

That question hit harder than I expected.

I could feel Elias’s eyes on me. Waiting. Testing.

What did I love about him? The arrogance? The authority? The way he looked like sin wrapped in a three-piece suit?

I smiled faintly. “He… listens,” I said quietly. “Even when he pretends not to. He notices small things.”

Elias’s expression barely changed, but for a moment, his eyes softened — just barely.

His mother’s lips curved in an unreadable smile. “How poetic.”

Dinner continued, but every bite felt like a test. I could tell Mrs. Thorne wasn’t convinced. Every question she asked was a probe, every smile too measured to be warm.

By the time dessert was served, I was exhausted from pretending.

Mr. Thorne finally leaned back in his chair. “Well, Elias, if she’s truly the one, I hope she knows what she’s getting herself into.”

“I do,” I said quickly, before thinking.

The table went silent.

Mr. Thorne’s gaze met mine — cool and assessing. “Then you’re braver than most.”

Elias’s hand brushed mine under the table — not romantic, just steadying. Still, the simple touch sent a strange warmth through me.

When we finally stood to leave, Mrs. Thorne walked me to the door.

“You’re a sweet girl, Clara,” she said softly. “But the Thorne family isn’t easy to please. Don’t disappoint us.”

Her tone wasn’t cruel. It was worse — polite but heavy, like a warning wrapped in grace.

“I’ll do my best,” I said, forcing a smile.

“I’m sure you will,” she murmured, then turned away.

---

The car ride back was quiet. The city lights blurred through the tinted windows. I sat still, trying to breathe again after holding it in all evening.

Elias finally spoke. “You did well.”

I looked at him, surprised. “Really? Because your mother looked ready to hand me a lie detector.”

“She’s like that with everyone,” he said. “She doesn’t trust easily.”

“She doesn’t like me,” I said, almost whispering.

He glanced at me briefly. “She doesn’t have to. Just believe it for six months.”

I laughed weakly. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is,” he said, eyes on the road. “The more you think, the harder it gets. Just follow my lead.”

We didn’t speak again until the car pulled up in front of my apartment.

I turned to him. “You really think your parents believed any of it?”

He paused before answering. “My father doesn’t believe anything. My mother… she’s trying to.”

I nodded slowly. “Then maybe that’s good enough.”

He gave a small smile — rare, but real. “Get some rest, Clara. Tomorrow’s

another performance.”

When I stepped out of the car, the night air hit my face like a reminder of how unreal all this was.

I wasn’t just a broke girl from nowhere anymore. I was part of a billionaire’s lie.